Chapter 2: Revan's Bad Mood

Taris is not Revan's favorite planet. It is a dirty place behind all its shiny buildings; slavery, bigotry, greed, corruption – Taris is one big melting pot of sin.

The last time she'd put foot on the giant city-world was with an army to free Taris from Mandalorian control. She remembers with gratification that not only were they victorious, she and the Republic were able to drive the Exchange out, ending their slaving operations... for a time.

It seems the Exchange is already back in full force. She hates to think of how well they're doing thanks to their shady businesses. She's had nothing but time to think of anything and everything that is wrong with Taris since she's been assigned one more day of bed rest. Though Carth's company is enjoyable enough, he spends most of the day out gathering information and leaves Revan to stew in her bad mood.

So it's no wonder the next day she heads straight to the cantina, despite Carth's protests to take it easy; he agrees after she points out time restraints and promises not to pass out in public. Revan needs a drink now more than ever, if she's to make it through the day without murdering someone – the Sith outside their apartment notwithstanding. She's already requested an entire bottle of Tarisian Ale when Carth warns her not to spend too much with their limited funds.

"There's no price limit on happiness." She tells him while stroking the bottle lovingly. The pilot rolls his eyes and elects to remind her of the reason why they're here.

"At least try to find out a way to get through to the Lower City, while you're eating through our credits." During the first few days on Taris, Carth had discovered that most of the escape pods have crashed on the lower levels of Taris, so that's where they decide to begin their search for Bastlia. Unfortunately, the Lower City is under quarantine, inaccessible to the general public.

"I will." Revan grunts dismissively. "You need to loosen up." She waves at the barkeep. "My good man – how about a round of your best Corellian Spiced Ale for my friend here?"

"It's the afternoon, Aria. I'll pass."

"We're stuck on a Sith infested hole of a planet and assigned the impossible task of finding a single woman among millions. I think that's excuse enough to get drunk." When the pilot only shoots her a dubious look, Revan throws up her hands and sighs. "Fine, at least eat something. For a soldier you're pretty damn stubborn."

"Just practical." Carth smiles. Nonetheless he accepts the plate of cantina grub that's offered to him, though seems more interested in watching Revan devouring her own. "The food's not going anywhere you know."

"Have you looked at the Cantina Special? I'm not taking any chances." She stops to watch Carth curiously over her plate. "So, Onasi, tell me about yourself."

The pilot looks so taken aback that Revan laughs. "For a famous war hero you sure aren't accustomed to talking about yourself."

"I er, yeah." He admits. "There's not much to tell. I'm a soldier, like you. I've been a star-fighter for the Rep-" Carth cuts himself off, realizing he shouldn't be admitting this in public on a Sith planet. "Well, anyway, you already seem well informed on my background."

"I like to know my employers. And that's not what I meant, Onasi. How about… where you lived? Simple enough." She prods. If they are to work together, she wants to know the person she'll be relying on to watch her back.

"That doesn't seem relevant to the mission." Revan gives him a look that promises that she will relentlessly continue this line of questioning until she gets some answers (she's always had a knack for sending messages without actually saying anything), and he soon yields. "…My home world was one of the first planets to fall to Malak's fleet." Carth stops for a full minute and she's about to press him when he suddenly resumes. "The Sith bombed it into submission, and there wasn't a damned thing I – the Republic forces could do to stop them." His eyes have grown dark and furious and ashamed. The logical part of her brain tells her to stop, but the inquisitive part is nosy enough to carry on.

"You talk like it's your fault – as if you failed." She leans forward, intrigued.

"I – no. I did my duty – followed my orders. I did not fail them." The last part is so quiet she barely catches it.

"Them…?"

"It isn't relevant." Carth decides to end the conversation at that. Revan wonders if the pilot's planet is one whose destruction she personally ordered. She wonders if she should apologize.

Hi, I'm Revan, former Dark Lord of the Sith. Sorry for blowing up your planet, drinks are on me.

She knows Carth's guilt is irrational. If it had been one of the first worlds to fall, the Sith surely had the advantage of surprise. One man cannot hope to stop an entire Sith armada that has appeared from nowhere and is intent on blowing the entire place to smithereens. She tells him so, though puts it more eloquently.

The stony silence is broken as the pilot cracks a helpless smile. "Yes, I know that. I – It's a bit more complicated than what you assume." He shakes his head and laughs. "Thank you though. Your frankness is… refreshing." She is cut off before she can continue her inquiries as Carth shows off a remarkable bout of telepathy. "I'm sorry if I wasn't very helpful in answering your questions – I probably didn't make much sense. I won't stop you from asking any more questions, but later. For now let's just focus on the matter at hand."

"I'll hold you up to it." Revan assures him. It turns out that they have no more time for chitchat as the bartender places a drink in front of the ex-Sith Lord that she does not remember ordering.

"Paid for by the gentleman in the corner." The bartender gestures behind them. She swivels on her stool to address the man, puzzled.

"I can't believe you're being hit on." Carth grins.

"Stay here another hour and I bet you a hundred credits that you'll have a few admirers of your own. So shut it Onasi." A pause as she considers her options. She finally decides and stands up. "I'm going to talk to him."

"…You're drunk." Carth declares.

"I'm no pushover – it takes more than half a bottle of wine for that." She mutters. "It'll just be a moment. Don't worry, I won't do anything crazy."

Revan has always had a problem with ignorance – if she is unknowledgeable of any situation, she is quick to remedy it. And this is one of those situations.

The former Sith Lord isn't ugly by any standard, but she had been a Sith Lord, for Force's sake, who had worn a big black cloak and scary Mandalorian mask. Personal appearance had always been low on her List of Important Details to Take Over the Galaxy, so why exactly did this man have any interest in her?

Said man smiles as she sits down opposite him. "Hi there – I haven't seen you around before. Of course, they don't give us Sith officers from the military base much time off…"

The answer turns out to be so simple that Revan almost regrets her decision. He wants company to listen to him while he complains, and Revan is the lucky woman. Well… at least she can use the officer's loneliness to her advantage – even make headway into their Lower City problem. She adjusts her posture to sit more prettily, legs crossed, head in hands. She bats her lashes and hopes her acting is up to par; she hasn't been a woman in years. "Wow, a military man. That's way more impressive than a lame mechanic." Her nose scrunches up as she points at Carth who is staring at his plate as if it held the secrets of the universe. "Thanks for dragging me away from that guy, he wouldn't stop going on about droids." Okay, maybe she's laying it on a bit thick, but the man's buying it.

"He does seem the tedious sort. Don't worry," he smirks, "I can keep you occupied."

Revan inwardly winces at the innuendo and is reminded of why she avoids these social situations in the first place (other than the demanding business of taking over the galaxy). She's also sure there are rules in place against fraternizing with your subordinates – especially when you're Revan (then again, she's technically not Sith anymore). Fighting her discomfort, she tilts her head and keeps going. "You don't look like a Sith."

"I'm off duty right now, so I'm not in uniform. The name's Yun Genda – junior officer first class with the Sith occupation force."

"Aria Blackmoor – bored and looking for a bit of fun." Oh how the mighty have fallen. Revan, ex-Dark Lord of the Sith, Tactical Genius, Conqueror of Worlds, has been lowered to flirting for information – and Force she's even giggling.

"Well we junior officers are having a party later today…"

"No way."

"Onasi, this may be our best shot at getting to the Undercity."

"If I could go with you, I'd actually consider it."

"You know that's not possible. Yun Genda saw you in the cantina – plus the invitation was only for me. I don't think he'd appreciate male party crashers."

"It's better than going alone. What if you're caught? You'll be one person against a dozen soldiers. You know what the Sith are capable of, and we can't tip them off that we're searching for Bastila."

"I'm sure I can handle a dozen unarmed, off duty Sith. And, it is in my opinion that free booze is worth any risk."

"I – you're unbelievable."

"Just trust me. I'm more competent than you give me credit for." But even as she says this, she can see in Carth's expression that trust is not something the man is willing to give. He isn't even worried about her safety – he's worried that she'll misstep and spill the beans! Suddenly she doesn't feel like arguing any longer. "Wait, I changed my mind. Let's find another way."

Carth goes silent, obviously having expected more resistance. After a moment he sighs, relieved. "Thank you for being reasonable."

Revan sits on her bed, more peeved with Carth Onasi than she'd like. He can be a right pain in the choobies when he sets his mind to it. For a moment she considers utilizing Force persuade, but she doesn't want to face the consequences of failing. "Yes, well, thank you for ruining a perfectly good idea."

"I know being stuck on Taris is not the most pleasant experience, and I know we have a time limit." Carth rubs the back of his neck. "But I don't want to take unnecessary risks."

"You know what? I'm going to bed." She ignores him, kicks off her shoes, and slides under the covers of her bed. She's annoyed with Carth's mistrust of her, her own inability to persuade him, and the fact that if she doesn't take this opportunity she will have lost her self-respect for nothing.

"We'll just have to scout a bit more tomorrow – maybe find someone from the Exchange. With all their 'business', they'd definitely have access to the Lower City." The pilot suggests, tone apologetic. She just frowns and shuts her eyes. If there is one thing she misses about being Revan, it is the position to make decisions unchallenged.

She sneaks out of the apartment as soon as Carth falls asleep. It's well into the night when she finally steps outside, so she hurries to make up for lost time.

It's along the way that she spots the city's nasty underbelly beginning to churn.

"Davik says you missed your last payment." Thug Number One says.

"Davik doesn't like you missing payments!" Thug Number Two repeats in a threatening manner.

"H-here – I've got fifty credits. A down payment. That should buy me some time, right?" Thugs' Victim asks fearfully.

"Sorry, you're out of time. Now it's all or nothing. Davik can't have people not paying his debts!"

"No, please – I don't have the money! I'll do anything – just don't kill me!"

Revan has never been one to keep out of other peoples' businesses (just ask the Mandalorians). She has a blaster to Thug One's head by the time her presence is known. "Shaking up an old man? Not very admirable."

"This has nothing to do with you." Thug Two growls in aqualish; she's never liked their language – too guttural – every time she speaks it, it's like choking on seaweed.

"Oh, I think it does. Davik's in charge of the Exchange on Taris. I dislike the Exchange on a good day, and today's not agreeing with me." Revan's smile is dangerous. "So before I do anything else, tell me, do you have access to the Lower City?"

"No." Thug One swallows.

She pauses, as if considering. "That's too bad. You know who would?"

Thug Two has a hand on his blaster. He doesn't notice that she notices.

Thug One is singing like a bird now that his life is on the line. She appreciates the irony. "Canderous Ordo. He's – he's Davik's right hand man. A real tall, tough looking guy – a Mandalorian."

"Now just humor me here. Think Davik has a way off this planet? I bet he doesn't appreciate the lockdown – bad for business and all."

"Not that I know of – but it's been going around that Davik might be searching."

"And I bet a pretty credit that he'll send Ordo to do the dirty work. Know where I'd find him?"

"He's probably –"

"You won't need to know." Thug Two cuts in and lifts his blaster, effectively ending the interrogation. Revan dodges the shot and pulls the trigger; Thug One doesn't even have a chance to scream.

Blasters aren't her first choice of weapons – she likes getting up close and personal, which is messy business with a blaster. She imagines it's like putting a body part in a microwave fermenter – the result is not pretty and it ends up smelling.

Thug Two meets his end the same way as Thug One and the disgusted ex-Sith Lord inwardly affirms that she will be abstaining from blaster usage from this point onwards. She wipes liquefied brain off her hand and turns to the old man.

"Don't take loans from big crime outfits. You'd be better off jumping into a pool full of hungry firaxan sharks."

The old man stutters a thank you and promptly runs away. She hopes he'll take her advice – traumatic experiences usually helped with ingraining life lessons.

The rest of the way to her destination is taken up in deep thought. Revan's always had a knack for seeing the big picture – nothing is left to chance. Locating Bastila has not been her main objective; if they rescue the Jedi but finds themselves still trapped on the planet, it would only a matter of time before they're caught. Or if they discover that Bastila has perished, they'll end up at square one and still need to escape. Finding a way off Taris is priority number one.

She knows she'll most likely have to stick her nose into the world of the Exchange if she wants results, as much as it pains her to admit it, and Davik's right hand man is her best bet.

Canderous Ordo… where could you be?

Carth is waiting for her when she returns to the apartment three hours later. The drunken smile slips off her face as she sees his expression – there is panic and relief, though it is nothing compared to the anger. "You went anyways." It's not a question.

"It was our best bet." Revan tells him, unrepentant. She tosses a bag his way, two shiny Sith uniforms nestled in it, and falls on her bed. "Tomorrow we can head straight to the Lower City. Told you I could take care of it – and the free booze? You can call the Sith evil, but you can't fault their taste in liquor."

"This isn't a laughing matter." The pilot scowls, gripping the bag tightly. "Look Aria, you can't just do whatever you please. How do you expect me to trust you when you can't even keep your word?"

Her feigned nonchalance drops at those words and she bristles, indignant. "Trust, Onasi?" She jumps up abruptly and the man's eyes widen at her outburst. "Don't bother with a sermon – you know as well as I do your 'trusting' me is a load of bantha fodder."

Carth flinches and she knows she's right on the mark, but the next second he crosses his arms and stares at her stubbornly. "I'll admit I have my suspicions, but don't blow it out of proportion."

"Oh? Please, enlighten me." Revan presses him, smiling coldly. Carth hesitates, then apparently decides he's already in too deep and speaks.

"...I've been going through the battle aboard the Endar Spire over and over in my head since we crashed. Some things just don't add up for me." He runs a hand through his hair, brushing back those two unruly stray locks that Revan suddenly wants to snip off – preferably with a vibroblade. "We lost the ship and a lot of good people… I'm surprised that any of us are alive to talk about it. So it's more than a little surprising that you happen to be here, isn't it?"

The words all sound rehearsed and Revan gets the feeling the pilot has wanted to ask her for a while. "Or it could be luck." She points out, hands on her hips.

Carth shakes his head. "But it's more than that. You were the only last minute transfer, requested specifically by Bastila's party when they came on board. Considering your connection to Bastila and the Jedi… whether you know it or not… your presence here seems a little convenient."

Suspicious or no, Carth's musings are closer to the truth than Revan likes. "So you decide I can't be trusted, because I am somehow connected to the Jedi." She deadpans. Honesty is not an option, so she'll have to pretend to be clueless. It's not hard – her exasperation is genuine. "Fine, go ahead, be paranoid."

"I'm not trying to be paranoid. I learned a long time ago that something which looks like a coincidence probably isn't. Especially when the Jedi are involved."

Why did she have to crash on Taris alongside the one man with the ability to put two and two together? It's lucky he hadn't looked through her belongings – those lightsabers are still in her bag. She sighs and puts a hand to her temple. "Look, Onasi, I can't have someone who doesn't trust me watching my back. We're going to have to work together if we want to find Shan."

"I am working with you." Carth insists. "I'd be a fool not to. I'd also be a fool not to expect the unexpected."

"Questioning my every move is not working with me." Revan growls. "You do know we're on the same side, right? I agreed to help with your impractical plan. I got you the uniforms!"

"It has nothing to do with you personally… I just don't trust anyone and I have my reasons."

"Care to explain?" She already knows the answer.

"No, not really. Can we just keep our mind on more important matters?"

You obstinate, difficult man! It takes all her willpower not to smash her head repeatedly into the wall – Force knows her poor head can't take much more abuse – but she's sure it will be less painful than arguing with the pilot. "Of course." She breathes and doesn't plan on bothering with Carth again. She's worked with worse. She's had Sith watching her back.